


Is it cliché to say music saved me?

by Iamnotbleeding



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: 90's Music, Alternate Universe - Music Store, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon X OC - Freeform, Conguel, Connor Murphy & Zoe Murphy Bonding, Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen) Deserves Better, Evan Hansen Has a Crush on Connor Murphy, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Music, M/M, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Relationships, Pining, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Sibling Bonding, Soft Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Treebros, kleinphy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2020-11-23 21:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20896592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamnotbleeding/pseuds/Iamnotbleeding
Summary: Connor needed a new coping mechanism.He was fresh out of hospital, more fragile and vulnerable than he had ever been, and needing some way to at least TRY to help himself.Music seemed like a pretty good way to start.





	1. All these things that I've done

**Author's Note:**

> Wow it's been a long time!
> 
> Anyways, here's a music centric fic about Connor's recovery 
> 
> Its multiship because I'm really indecisive, but comments may influence my decisions on how relationships go ;)
> 
> No smut here, but if it's implied I might just write a separate fic for it if anyone wants that 
> 
> I know my Zoe specifically isn't great, but I hope you guys like this anyway :) hope to be updating weekly/monthly
> 
> Edit: definitely monthly updates for the time being. College is really crushing out all my spare time and I just can't force myself to publish work I'm not happy with.
> 
> Edit again: I promise I'm still working on the next chapter! I'm just at a really stressful point of college rn so I don't have much time to work. Check my insta (@lesbianconnormurphy) for updates :)

Connor really wasn't the same person after his attempt. It seemed that all those layers of defense and anger had been stripped away in an instant, every shell he had built up shattering down the moment he was found with an empty pill bottle in a near lifeless hand.

Vulnerability, after that, was inevitable. He couldn't keep hiding behind a facade when it was so obvious that a simple shrug wasn't a true answer to a quiet 'you okay?'. And, god, he tried his best to make himself seem like nothing had changed, but something about being stuck in a hospital bed close to needing life support made him far weaker than he ever could have anticipated.

First day out, he was in therapy. Three hours. Crying for most of it. He had never exactly shied away from crying- at least, not on his own. But, in front of people? He couldn't remember the last time he had cried in front of someone else. It was always only him. Therapy, somehow, broke him. Maybe it was the attempt, maybe it was the time there, but whatever it was, he just couldn't stop.

"Connor, I think you need to find a good outlet for your emotions." His therapist sighed softly, Connor scrubbing at his eyes harshly as the sobbing seemed to calm down.  
"I have one." He mumbled, looking up weakly. "I draw. I write."  
“Do they make you feel better?”

For a moment, Connor hesitated. Paused to think through everything he did that he thought was helping him. The words that found their way into a suicide note that was never completed. The artwork, the mindless black scribbles dotted around the page. Everything he did had carried with him, in emotions more than memories. It was pretty damn clear that his ‘healthy’ outlets weren’t working.

“No. Writing about feeling like shit just makes me feel like shit. And art is fucking stressful to do.”  
“Well, maybe that means it isn’t working for you. And it might not be a thing you can change quickly.”  
“Then what should I do?” He asked, softly, still fearful of admitting what he had done wrong. It almost seemed ridiculous to be ashamed of something so minor, but he’d already learned to be ashamed of so much that it was almost second nature to him.  
“Something you can start fresh with. That you don’t associate with how you feel.”  
“I can’t do anything else. I’m not good at anything else.”  
“I didn’t say you needed to be good at it. You just need to do it and be happy with it.”  
“I don’t know. I can try music?”

* * *

e|3------------------------3-------------------------------|  
B|3------------------------3-------------------------5----|  
G|4------------------------4-------------------------5----|  
D|5------------------------5-------------------------5----|  
A|5------------------------5-------------------------3----|  
E|3------------------------3-------------------------------|

* * *

Second day out of hospital, he was in the closest guitar store he could find, Zoe trailing not too far behind him supposedly just to help him choose. Going out in public for the first time after the attempt was horribly nerve wracking, so much so that he was barely able to look up from his own feet, thick, dark circles hanging under eyes that were red from a long mix of crying, sleeplessness, and as much weed (finally medicinal, for once) as he needed to keep himself even slightly calm.  
Surprisingly enough, to him, there wasn’t an air of judgement from the moment he walked in. Sure, maybe it was just because of Zoe already knowing most of the people in there, but Connor couldn’t feel any harsh eyes glaring him down for more than a simple passing glance. Maybe he didn’t look as much of a wreck as he felt, or-

“Connor?”

Oh fuck. He really didn’t count on anyone recognising him- hell, who even would? He didn’t know anyone that ever mentioned working somewhere like that, apart from-  
“Miguel?” He mumbled softly, looking up with the best hollow expression he could muster, but lacking the strength to make himself seem completely empty.  
Miguel softly tugged on his arm to pull him closer and away from the others, lowering his voice.  
“Who did this to you, Con?” Ah. So he didn’t know about the attempt. Not yet, at least.  
“I did.” Connor mumbled weakly, looking down and pushing a hand through his matted hair, clearly washed but barely brushed. “Look, that doesn’t matter. I can explain another time. Just, my therapist told me I need a new outlet and I figured this would be a good way to start.”  
“You’re in therapy?”  
“Miguel.” He snapped, still weak and quiet. “I told you. I’ll explain it another time. Show me a good fucking guitar so I can get home. Please.”

After a moment of hesitation, Miguel sighed and nodded gently, filled with concern but for once deciding to listen to Connor’s request and back off. He’d never seen him look quite so vulnerable, and it was a fairly decent indication that Connor definitely wasn’t up to talking.  
“So. You’ve never played before?”  
“I have. Zoe let me use hers last night. I still don’t know shit about it, but I’ve played.”  
“Well, you can’t let yourself feel disappointed when you get it wrong. Because, you’re definitely gonna screw up a few times.” He said, leading Connor towards a few stools. “But, it’ll be fine, in the end. Every time you fuck up, you’ll learn how to do it better the next time around.”  
“Yeah. I know.” Connor nodded, carefully sitting down, more than thankful that he had come at what seemed to be a quiet time.  
“You can ask me for help, you know. If you want it.” He shrugged, carefully handing Connor a guitar and sitting opposite him. “I’m not an expert. But it’s always good to get a little support.”  
“I know.” He repeated, being as careful as someone could possibly be with a guitar. “It’s just kinda scary to let someone know that you suck.”  
“But asking for help is the best way to improve. You can’t get better when you don't know how.”

Connor briefly looked up at him, momentarily meeting his eyes and nodding slightly, absentmindedly toying with the strings before his glance fell down once again. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”  
“Show me what you can do, Con. We’ll pick out a good one for you when I know how good you are.”

The budget Connor had told Miguel, no more than $100, was broken pretty fast. He just didn’t know it. Miguel had often took things out of his paycheck before, normally just a few dollars here and there for spare cables or occasional books. He’d never deducted half of his pay before. But, for Connor, he didn’t mind giving him almost everything he would need for not even half of what it would actually cost. Hell, the only thing he didn’t give him was an amp, and that was only because Zoe already had one. She almost tried to intervene as Connor paid, pointing out that the guitar itself was worth far more than he was giving, but it only took a pointed look from Miguel to explain what was happening.  
She only mentioned it as Connor headed back to the car, and she made a quick excuse that she needed to grab something else.

“What are you trying to do with him?" She said to him, a hint of defensiveness in her curiosity.  
"What?"  
"Stop trying to hit on him. He's been through enough."  
Miguel sighed, shaking his head. "I'm not hitting on him. I'm trying to make things right with him."  
"Just, stay away from him. Or he’ll just get worse again. I haven’t seen him this calm in a long time." She decided, stepping to the door.  
"Since when did you care about him so much?"  
Zoe's head snapped back around, a painting of anger, before softening up in a moment of silent hesitation.  
"I almost lost him. Of course I'm going to care."  
"Have you forgiven him?"  
That needed a little more thought. She'd been in such an odd state since Connors attempt that she hadn't really took the time to think about everything that had happened before. And, honestly, now that she thought about it?  
"No. I haven't. But I'm going to be his sister until he starts treating me like I'm not."  
"Why?"  
"Because I want my brother back. And maybe support might have stopped him feeling this way. He won’t even tell me why he did it. It could have been because of me. I don’t know."  
It would be obvious to anyone that she was completely wrong. It would be obvious to her, with time. Funny, how blame can be such a motivator for change.  
"Be good to him." She said, nodding gently, before stepping out and going to meet Connor at the car.

* * *

e|3---3--0---1----3--0----------------0------------3------|

B|3---x-----------------0---0--2--4---1---3-------3------|

G|4---x-----------------0----------------0------------4------|

D|5---x-----------------2----------------2------------5------|

A|5---2-----------------2----------------3------------5------|

E|3---2-----------------0-------------------------------3-----|

* * *

"So, Connie, remember what I taught you yesterday?"  
"Zo, you know you don't call me Connie."  
Connor sighed, guitar settled under his arm as he sat opposite Zoe on her bed. He found her room to be far more comforting than his own, right then- his own had far too many memories, far too many scattered papers of dark old coping mechanisms, far too strong a scent of weed, far too little and far too much all at once. The first night back, he'd slept on her floor. She had thought that asking if he wanted to would be slightly insulting, make him feel like nobody trusted him, but he agreed the moment she asked.

"I think I can remember. But I want to know more." He sighed, carefully tuning it with newly painted nails, already having a slight knack for getting it perfectly tuned without much concentration. Connor thought nothing of it, but Zoe picked up on it immediately. Even after all the time she had been playing, she was just about able to tune fairly accurately without anything to help. Finding it so easy so early one was a sign of something special.

She watched him far closer after she realised that- how his fingers would brush and glide over the strings with perfect form, or find their place over the fretboard with ease, or how quickly he could realise exactly what he had done wrong and why. After just a little while of teaching him, she settled her own guitar down and exchanged it for the instrument she was far more skilled with- her bass.  
“Play through that again. What I just showed you. Keep repeating it. I want to try something.”  
Connor hesitated, biting his lip, before nodding gently. “Yeah. Okay. I can do that.” He decided, playing what she had taught in exactly the way she had taught it.  
The second time he played it, she finally joined. Nothing too fancy or complicated, just enough to make it feel much more complete. Once Connor figured he had it perfected, he began to play with it. Throwing in how own little extras, almost every single one perfect- at least, until it wasn’t, and he came to an abrupt stop.

“Fuck. I fucked it up.” He mumbled, giving a weak, self deprecating smile and setting the guitar down quickly.  
“You screwed up improv. Which is pretty hard to get right."  
"Yeah. Well. I still ruined it."  
"For a beginner, you did amazing. I can't even do that right."  
Connor shrugged, still dismissing her words but clearly starting to take them in- especially as they continued on, and his slip ups became far less frequent and less noticeable.  
Maybe, just maybe, he had found the one thing he could be good at.

* * *

e|---------------------------------------|

B|--3-----3--------3---3-----3-----|

G|-----4-----0--0---------4------0-|

D|--------------------------------------|

A|--------------------------------------|

E|---------------------------------------|

* * *

Oh, god. If there was one thing Connor was absolutely dreading, it was going back to school. It was barely even school anymore- it was a fucking pity party for the kid that nobody gave a shit about before. He couldn’t even walk through the hall without getting constantly bombarded by people that he didn’t even know telling him that they were there for him and cared about him.  
In fact, there was only really one person that didn’t treat him any differently to before.

“Hey, Connor! Good to see you’ve been keeping up the manicures. Dying would normally stop most people.”  
It was a bit of a miracle Connor didn't immediately punch him or have a meltdown. God knew he’d been on the verge of both all day. But, instead, he gave the weakest smile, no more than a tiny upwards flicker of the corner of his lips. Still, it was a smile. The most anyone had seen for a long time.

“Do you ever stop being an asshole?” He asked quietly, something almost affectionate in his voice as he stepped just a little closer, frowning at the way Jared backed up from him.  
“I have a brand to keep up.”  
“No you don’t. I mean, everyone barely knows you.”  
“Everyone knows me!”  
“No, they don’t. Nobody does.”  
Silence fell over them for a moment, Jared looking down in what almost seemed like shame, Connor finally managing to step closer to him. Neither of them were truly sure why Connor seemed so compelled by Jared all of a sudden- perhaps it was how weak his guard was, or how hard Connor had been trying to keep himself in check, or just the amount of meds he was on sedating him to the point where he couldn’t snap even if he wanted to.  
Probably the last one.  
“Yeah. Well. I have friends anyway. I don't need more.”  
“Keep telling yourself that.” Connor quickly turned around, taking Jareds hostility as a sign to leave before it could turn into something worse.

“How would you know?” Jared asked out of the blue, Connor only turning to look at him over his shoulder.  
“Liars can always spot other liars. Maybe if you told the truth every once in a while, you actually would have friends.”  
The silence that fell over them now was far heavier. Thick, crushing, claustrophobic silence, that somehow muted the voices and footsteps of everyone else that came through the hall.  
“Making friends is fucking hard when you’re an asshole.”  
Connor’s tiny smile reappeared, somewhere between triumphant and understanding.  
“You think I don't know that? Good job telling the truth for once, Kleinman.”

Without another word from either of them, Connor finally walked away. He still hated Jared, of course he did, but there was something comforting about how he always acted the same, no matter what.

Plus, it was insanely obvious how big the crush Jared had on him was. Which was doing great things for Connors almost non-existent ego.

* * *

e|---------------------------------------------------------------------|

B|15-12-15-----------15-15-12-15-----------12---------|

G|---------------11-11---------------------11--11-----12----|

D|--------------------------------------------------------------------|

A|--------------------------------------------------------------------|

E|--------------------------------------------------------------------|

* * *

[Hey.]

It was rare for Connor to be the one to text first. The last time he had done that… well, it didn't end well. Turns out Miguel had learned from his past mistake. The reply was instant.

[What's up?]  
[Nothing. Just wanted to talk.]  
[You never just want to talk]  
[Well, now I do.  
I need help.]  
[With what?]

Connor didn't respond. Even after being the one to ask. So desperate to prove he was recovering that he was ashamed to ask for help for something as simple as reading a damn guitar tab. He didn’t expect Miguel to turn up at the door, wide eyed and breathless, convinced that Connor would be dead by the time he arrived.

"You didn't answer." He mumbled, a hint of a shake in his voice as he spoke. "I thought you'd…"  
"You thought I'd fucking offed myself?"  
"It's not like that, con-"  
"Why does nobody just fucking trust me!" He snapped, shoving him back and shaking his head.  
"Because I'm worried, Connor."  
"Bullshit! You think I'm still just a fucking unstable wreck!" Maybe he was proving his point, just a little, but he couldn't think about that just yet. He was falling back into old patterns- getting so blinded by rage that the only thing he was able to think of was just how much of a victim he was. Of all the things he'd managed to figure out about himself, the victim complex wasn't one of them.  
"Con, please-"  
"Fuck off! I don't need your fucking help! I don't need anyone's help! Just-"

"Connor."  
His borderline screaming was cut off by a single word from Zoe, that made him snap around, breathing still ragged and fists clenched at his side's. Sure, it was terrifying, but she'd seen it all before. Connors screaming breakdowns had always been a fairly regular occurrence.  
Her trying to help, however, wasn't.  
"You need to stop yelling and take a deep breath. Please." Despite the slight shake in her voice, she tried to keep her confidence up, knowing it would be the only way to really get through to him.

Connor flinched. His lips parted, as if to say something else, before they slowly shut again, and he took a ragged, but deep, breath. "Okay. Now what." He mumbled, shuddering, on the verge of snapping again.

"He's here because he cares. Not because he doesn't trust you." She said, doing all she could to not sound patronising. "We're all worried right now, Connor. We don't want you to get hurt again."  
"That doesn't mean you can fucking treat me like a baby."  
"We don't want to. You know how you get paranoid, right?" She tried, Connor responding with a small nod. "Well, that's how we all feel right now. Because we don't want to lose you."

Another breath of hesitation from Connor. In what felt like an hour, his fists uncurled, his eyes became less accusing, his posture relaxed and became less hostile- even his voice weakened to something resembling guilt. "I'm sorry." He said, before promptly heading back upstairs with his usual avoidant speed, Miguel and Zoe simply stood watching him leave.

"I've never got him to do that before." She said, in disbelief, shaking her head. "I've never calmed him down." She was- crying? In the midst of all that had happened, she didn't even notice the tears brimming in her eyes. She wiped at them furiously, quickly turning to leave the room, only pausing to glance over her shoulder. "Give him a minute before you go up there."

Miguel was finally smart enough to comply.


	2. Someone New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor didn't seem to be getting anywhere. To him, it just felt like he was getting worse.  
Getting worse... in a way that meant yet another person was head over heels for him. In exchange for another seeming to hate him at the flick of a switch.
> 
> God, life was confusing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this chapter being ridiculously late!!! Had a big college project, but now I'm back and really hyped to get some more work done, so hopefully updates will be faster from now on.  
For better updates (and maybe a chance to read the fic early ;) ), my insta is @lesbianconnormurphy
> 
> Hope you guys like it :)

* * *

> ** _Go take this the wrong way_ **   
** _You knew who I was with every step that I ran to you_ **   
** _Only blue or black days_ **   
** _Electing strange perfections is in any stranger I choose_ **

* * *

Once again, Connor was exhausted at school. More than before. 

He was starting to realise that recovery was much harder than it had seemed. Hitting lows felt far worse, too. Before, it was normal life. Now, it felt like failure. To him, it meant that he hadn't been trying hard enough. 

That's what he told Zoe in the car that morning, eyes red and teary, hand that wasn't gripped tight around his coffee twitching away in his lap, leg bouncing anxiously. 

"I'm worse again." He had mumbled, barely able to look up. "I'm not getting better. I'm just going downhill. Again."

"You won't get better yet. You've barely been recovering. It'll take time."

"Mhm. Yeah." He hummed, so flat that it was clear how little conviction he had. "What if I don't recover?" 

Zoe sighed as she pulled up to the school, finally looking over at him. "That doesn't matter right now. What matters is that you try. One bad day won't end you."

Connor didn't bother responding. He was too exhausted for it. He just gave her a weak nod and didn't say another word for the next three hours. Classes were always easy to pass through that way. Bare minimum effort and bored doodles on books and hands. Easy. 

Getting forced into paired work in English was his worst nightmare. Only made slightly easier by the fact that he was paired with Jared. 

"Still putting smart kids with dumbasses." He grumbled as he sat beside Connor, prompting the tiniest smile back. 

"It's hard not to. Nobody here's as dumb as you." He teased back, flipping his head on its side against the table. 

Fuck. Jared's crush really seemed to get bigger and bigger every second he looked at Connor. Even so utterly exhausted and unwilling to face the day, he was gorgeous. At least, he was in Jared's eyes, in a way that somehow made him into a complete sap. The dull glaze of his eyes that made them into a deep pit more than a charming oak, the uncaring tangles of his hair framing his face like an artist's final incomplete portrait, the lack of colour in his already pale skin only being changed by the ever darkening bags under his eyes- all the ugly signs of his slow recovery were something so enticing to Jared. 

Thankfully, not in the way it was to the tryhard edgy girls at school. Jared could never find the tight grip depression had on Connors life attractive, aside from appreciating how fucking pretty his newly grown out hair was, but it would be hard for anyone to deny that. He just enjoyed seeing the soul left in there. If a quick flicker at the corner of his lips made his breathing stop, a full blown smile would probably give him a violent heart attack. 

“The fuck are you staring at?” Oh, great. His little mental tangent about how damn pretty Connor was somehow ended up pissing him off. Of course it did. It was Connor. In his paranoid eyes, anybody acting slightly abnormally to him was out to get him. They were just a liar, pretending to like him just to tear him down, find out something they could use against him. 

He had only recently been made aware that being that afraid was mostly ridiculous. He’d never even considered the possibility of paranoia before his therapist mentioned it. 

One thought caught him out. “Out to get me”. The most textbook sign of his paranoia acting up. It took a moment, but he fell out of his tensed up posture, the anger that had ignited in him fading from his face, trying his best to give Jared a gentle look of curiosity more than anything else. Somehow, it worked. 

“Just thinking about how to explain that _ you’re _ the one failing everything.” 

“Oh, fuck off.” He whined, a certain lightness to his tone that Jared wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard before. “I’m not failing everything. I’m not failing this. I’m getting A’s in this.”

“You’re getting A’s? Then how come Miss Hale, like, never mentions you with the rest of those smart assholes?” 

“Because I’m not an asshole. And I told her not to.”

“What, you pulled a gun on her as a threat?”

Jared really did love to say things that could set Connor off. That time, it didn't quite work. The only response he received was a tired eye roll. 

“You need new material. This school shooter joke is getting old.” 

“I’ll stop making it when you stop walking around looking like that.”

“At least I don’t dress like a 30 year old virgin.” 

“I get girls. Like, all the time.” Jared insisted. A blatant lie and he knew it. 

“Alright, gaylord.”

“You can’t talk, trap.”

“For someone that claims to be straight, you really don't know what women look like.”

“For someone that claims to be straight, there sure are a lot of rumors about shit you’ve done.” Too far? Maybe. But Connors response was much more important to Jared than possibly offending him. 

“When the fuck did I ever claim to be straight?”

“Wait.” Jareds look shifted straight to confusion, feeling his heart either stop or beat a million miles a second. He honestly wasn’t sure. “You’re gay?”

“When did I say that?”

“You just said you aren’t straight.”

“I’m definitely not the dumb one here. I’m bi, idiot. Thought I made it obvious.” Seeing anything but support or indifference on Jareds face almost immediately made the paranoia set back in. As much as he tried to not give a shit about what people thought, he couldn’t help it. He had to face enough shit as it was. The anger sparked back in his eyes, defenses up so quickly it barely took a second. “Tell another fucking person, and I’ll-”

“Murphy. Chill.” He said, interrupting him with a voice only Connor would be able to hear. Compassion? From Jared? God, that was rare. “I’ve kept being gay a secret since I was, like, ten. No worries.”

“Oh.” Guard back down. Again. Jared was almost impressed by how quickly Connor’s attitude could change. “I knew you were lying when you said you get girls.”

“Wait, so does that mean the rumors were true?”

“What rumors?”

“You don’t know about them?”

“No, I know. Just, which one?”

“The one that you sucked off that senior Luke for weed.”

“People knew about that?”

“You actually did it?”

“Of course I fucking did it. He had weed and a big dick. And he _ said _ he wouldn’t tell.”

Jared was fairly quick to regret bringing it up. Last thing he needed was a boner in class. The conversation came to a swift stop as he changed the subject to the work they were actually supposed to be doing, trying not to let himself think too hard about what other rumors could be true. 

He couldn't stop himself thinking about Connor, though. God, he could never stop thinking about Connor. Especially now he knew that he was bi- and Connor knew that he was gay. He'd always had his suspicions- long hair and a nose ring and home-done tattoos and a sketchbook seemingly filled to the brim with _very _naked men probably should have been a pretty good indicator, but hearing Connor actually say it was something else entirely. Did he actually have a chance with Connor? Was this actually real? Was there truly a slight hint of a reason to believe he could end up with him? 

Okay, it was all ridiculous. As far as he knew, Connor barely tolerated him, and all those mental images of him and Connor... kissing, were just a little too far from reality. If only he knew how easily he would've said yes to it. 

* * *
    
    
    e|-------------------------------2------------------------------------------------|
    B|---------3---5------3--------------5------3-------------------------------------|
    G|--4---------------------4---------------------4---------------------------------|
    D|-------------5------0----------4---5------0-------------------------------------|
    A|---------2---3---------------------3--------------------------------------------|
    E|--3---------------------3---------------------3---------------------------------|

* * *

Jared was quite lucky he hadn’t heard about Miguel, or any of the rumors from Hanover. Sure, there were rumors already, but at Hanover? Shipping Connor to an all-boys school was probably the worst decision to make. His short time spent there was honestly quite spectacular, by normal standards. Within a week there he was already at a party, drunk and high and pinned to a wall by a boy he was later informed was Miguel. At the time, it was just a fairly strong guy that was more than enthusiastic to pull on his hair and kiss him until his lips were numb right in front of everyone. From that incident on, he gained a reputation, and a swarm of almost entirely untrue rumors about who else he had been with. Pretty much every rumor under the sun: he was a trap, and a prostitute, and a virgin, and a very experienced dick sucker, and dating Miguel, and cheating on his girlfriend, and creating on his boyfriend, and completely single, and straight, and hooking up with every guy in school, it seemed. The only person he ever slept with at Hanover was Miguel, but from an outside perspective, he was living a crazy life. 

Then, got kicked out for having weed in his locker. Or smoking weed in a classroom, or having sex with a teacher, or starting a riot, or killing someone.

The rumor spreading there really was brutal. So, Jared really was lucky he never heard of them. It would either break his heart, or give him far too much jerk off material. 

If he had seen what Connor had been doing the night before, it probably would have been the former. 

Miguel's favourite method of problem solving was kisses. Connor getting frustrated over a part going wrong? Getting pissed when he couldn't quite do something? Well, all he had to do to solve it was give him a quick kiss and feel Connor melt into him and admit his defeat. Maybe it was that kind of absent care that had ruined them the first time around, but neither of them had really figured that out yet. Connor was just happy about the intimacy, and Miguel was happy to see him smile. Seemed fine, to them. 

“You know you’re supposed to be practicing now, right?”

Connor pouted the same sweet pout he used whenever he wanted something from a guy, not shifting from his position in Miguels lap. “I needed a break!” 

“I’ve taught you one thing today and you haven’t even fully done it yet, _ tonto _.”

“You know that I don’t understand that.”

“I called you an idiot, idiot.” He sighed affectionately, kissing Connor's forehead.

“Just because I think you’re sexy when you speak Spanish doesn’t mean you get to insult me.” 

“Would you rather I don't insult you? I can call you a lot of other things, Connie.” He smirked, pulling him closer and moving his lips to Connor's ear. “What was the one you liked? _ Linda perra _ , was it? _ Puta tonta _?”

Connor shoved him away, shifting off his lap quickly, a flush on his fake blank face. “You’re right. We should keep working. I need to focus.” 

Miguel pulled him back in. Cupped his cheek, thumb pushing Connor's lips apart, watching the stillness of his eyes become something almost blank and brainless. He really did know how to make him melt. He couldn't help but take a moment to admire it- this boy, normally so uptight and paranoid, so fearful of getting hurt by anything he would do, was now entirely gone, replaced by someone that couldn't think of anything but what Miguel wanted him to. 

Connor never really wanted to get in that state. He liked being secure, being fully in control of himself, being able to tell if someone was trying to screw him over. He really couldn't control it. Not with Miguel. He swore, he had to be a witch. He had to be. It was like he could take all of his thoughts away just by kissing him, like he was stealing them straight from his heart. He was barely even there to hear the next few words Miguel spoke in that ever teasing voice of his, falling out from the lips Connor was utterly obsessed with. 

“You’re stressed, _ cariño. _Let me help you out.”

They didn’t end up having sex. At least, not that night. Even they had the common sense to realise it would have been just a little bit fucked up. Came pretty damn close, though. If it weren’t for Miguel’s mom suddenly calling to insist he came home, they would have gone far further than what they did. Sure, they didn't manage to get much guitar practice done, but Connor sure as hell went to sleep happy with a head full of thoughts about what his world could be like, now he knew that Miguel was more than happy to stay in it. 

Connor was just considering texting him again when his train of thought was so rudely interrupted.

Well, interrupted by himself walking right into Evan, who was also so in the clouds he didn't see the other coming.

* * *
    
    
    e|-------------2-2---2----7--7-----5---------------------------------------|
    B|----3---5----3-3---3----8--8-----6---3---5----3--------------------------|
    G|-------------------4----9--9---------------------4-----------------------|
    D|--------5----0-0---4----9--9-----7-------5----0--------------------------|
    A|----2---3----------2----7--7---------2---3-------------------------------|
    E|-------------------2----7--7---------------------3-----------------------|

* * *

“Shit-! I’m, I’m so sorry, I didn’t, didn’t see you- I mean, I did, of course I did, I just-”

God, he fucking talked fast. Probably out of fear for how Connor would react, knowing how volatile he was, but he was honestly so tired he couldn’t even find the energy to snap. 

“Wasn’t all here?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Sorry. I was just-”

“You really don’t need to explain everything. I get it.” 

Something about that made Evan smile, just a little. Maybe because his therapist would constantly say he got it, but Evan knew full well that he didn’t, so he’d spin a web of little white lies to try and justify it. Connor didn’t seem like someone that lied easily. He admired that. He always had, kind of. Sure, he was absolutely fucking terrifying half the time, but he wasn’t someone to lie. He didn’t like you, he’d make it obvious. He thought something was off, he’d-

“God, what the fuck is it with people staring at me today?” 

-say it.

“Sorry-”

“You apologize way too much. At least Jared says something smart when he's being a dick.”

“Oh. Well I-”

“Stop. Seriously. You’re pissing me off now.” 

Evan shut up. Finally. And Connor just couldn't help but smile.

"Apologize to me again, and I'll fucking beat your ass. Got that?" The threat wasn't genuine. Even Evan got that. He responded with his own anxious smile and weak nod, which was met with another nod from Connor.

"You give good advice." He mumbled, just as Connor began to walk away, stopping him in his tracks with a curious look. 

"What?"

"Nothing. Didn't say anything. What, what did you think I said?" 

"I heard you the first time. I give good advice?" 

"Oh. Well. Yeah. Yeah, you do. I mean, that wasn't really advice, I just, it just-"

"Stop talking. I get it. You just need a kick up the ass." 

“Yeah. You get it.”

  
  


Nobody ever got it. Not normally. Apart from Connor. He got it. He actually understood. Evan never really expected Connor to be so nice, especially not when he looked like someone that would pull a knife on you if you looked at them wrong. Not that it was a bad thing, though. He always had liked threatening people. He was terrified of them, but still liked them. Maybe because he thought making friends with one would mean he was protected. And, now Connor was being kind for once, there was something even more charming about him. 

If he made friends with Connor, he'd get that protection. Best friends. The kind that hang out all the time, and go to private places to be alone together, and share a bed when they're together, and cuddle, and- 

"ImsorryIhavetogo-" Evan blurted out in one sharp breath, gripping his bag straps tightly and rushing down the hall before Connor could even say another word. 

For Connor, that moment was quickly shrugged off, as he resumed the thought about talking to Miguel again. 

For Evan, he ended up curled up in a tight ball on a chair in the mostly empty study centre, Jared arriving almost as soon as he got the garbled text about something being up. 

"Jesus Christ, Ev. What happened to you?"

"I- I was- I was talking to Connor-" he stammered, staring blankly at the table. "and- he was really nice to me- and-"

"Now you have a weird hopeless crush on him for no reason?"

Evan stopped. Chewed at his lip anxiously. Looked up carefully, making rare eye contact with Jared. 

"I mean. I think I do." He mumbled, voice about as quiet as he could make it. Shit, that was terrifying to admit. He'd never consciously been into a guy before, let alone been able to mention it to anyone. What would it mean for him? Would he have to keep it a secret? Teach himself to only ever like girls? God, what if someone found out? What if his _mom_ found out? She'd kick him out. She'd never done anything homophobic before, and had already made it clear that she wouldn't mind whatever Evan liked, but holy shit she was going to find out and hate him and he was going to get kicked out and have to find somewhere to live or he'd get stuck on the street and starve and-

"I thought you were into Zoe?" Jared cut off the thought. He was used to bringing Evan's strings of anxiety to a stop by now.

"No-! I mean- yeah, but- he's- Connors a guy-! I shouldn't like him!" 

"Oh, Evan." Jared chuckled quietly, patting his back just a little too hard. "You poor, innocent bisexual."

"What? But, I'm not-"

"Give me another explanation, then. What other reason do you, a completely straight guy, have for wanting to put your dick in _ both _the Murphy's?" 

"Stop being so fucking loud about it!" He said, raising his voice to an almighty whisper-yell. "Maybe, maybe I just, I don't. He was just nice to me."

"Riiiight, and that's why you're so horny for him all of a sudden."

"Shut up!" 

The conversation was entirely cut short by the door being slammed open by usual isc resident, Connor. He always arrived for one of two reasons- he actually wanted to get work done and just didn’t feel like being around people, or someone (or something) had irrationally pissed him off to the point where he had to get out before anyone got hurt.

Today was very clearly the latter, considering the state of his burning eyes and trembling fists. Unlike usual, he wasn’t accompanied by a teacher that was more concerned about stopping Connor from hitting someone than his wellbeing. He didn’t even notice the two as he walked in, but took up the table beside theirs, face firmly planting against it and being sheltered by his arms. 

After a few sharp jabs and a little encouragement from Jared, Evan moved over to sit beside Connor, still carefully keeping his distance, and was greeted by a simple “Fuck off,” from a teary voice. 

“Connor. It, Its me.”

“Don’t fucking care. Leave me alone.”

Well, that didn’t work. With only a quick beat of hesitation, Evan went for the more direct approach, shuffling closer and wrapping an arm around his back. Somehow, Connor didn't flinch. 

“You’ll be okay. This, its just a, a rough patch, whatever it is. You’ll be okay.”

The lack of response from Connor made Evans anxiety flare, and he was close to getting up and leaving entirely, before Connor seemed to relax into him, softening against his touch. 

Neither of them said another word for the next hour they spent there. Neither of them moved. And for once, the silence was a comfortable one.

* * *
    
    
    e|-----3-------2---------7--7-----5-----------------------------------------------|
    B|-----5-------3---------8--8-----6------3--5-------------------------------------|
    G|-----3-------4---------9--9-----7-----------------------------------------------|
    D|-----5-------4---------9--9-----7---------5-------------------------------------|
    A|-----3-------2---------7--7-----5------2--3-------------------------------------|
    E|-----3-------2---------7--7-----5-----------------------------------------------|

* * *

  
  


“He turned you down? After everything?”

“Jesus Christ, Zoe, can we just get back to fucking practice?”

Needless to say, guitar that night got sidetracked. Mainly because Connor couldn't focus on a single thing, and got even more frustrated than usual when he fucked up, even when it was just a dull note. 

“You’re not gonna play right until you get this out. I'm not your therapist, but I’ll listen.”

“You already know what happened. Said I still liked him, he said he didn't want to be with me.”

"Then why was he acting so... boyfriend-y with you?"

"I don't know. Maybe he just wants to fuck with me. Maybe that it. Maybe he knows how I'll get and he just wants to see how far he can push."

Shit. Okay, so Connor's paranoia was worse than she had expected. It wouldn't be that hard to get him out of it, right? As long as he didn't get too deep in his head before she could. 

"Okay, okay." She said quickly, trying her best to diffuse him. "Do you think that he's out to get you?" 

Judging by Connor's silence, she had found the right thing to say. She could tell just how hard it was for him to see where he had been going wrong. Maybe that was what he really needed to get better. Just to be reminded. "Yeah. I do. But, I know he isn't. I mean, I don't care anyway."

“If you don't care, you wouldn't be so upset.”

Oh, great. She'd found another one of Connor’s triggers, apparently. Just after she had calmed him down, he was back at it. This wasn't her problem to fix. 

“I'm upset because I'm a fucking unstable psychopath! I get upset about everything, I can't do anything fucking right, I-”

“Con. Stop yelling.” She cut in, trying to suppress the shake in her voice. 

“Don't tell me to stop fucking yelling!”

“I’m going to leave the room now. I won’t come back in until you tell me to. Please don’t hurt yourself.”

She didn't bother waiting for Connor’s response. His screaming fits were what hurt them in the first place, she wasn’t about to let it send them back to the place they were in before. She could only hope that he'd be able to help himself. 

* * *
    
    
    e|-------------------------------2------------------------------------------------|
    B|---------3---5------3--------------5------3-------------------------------------|
    G|--4---------------------4---------------------4---------------------------------|
    D|-------------5------0----------4---5------0-------------------------------------|
    A|---------2---3---------------------3--------------------------------------------|
    E|--3---------------------3---------------------3---------------------------------|

* * *

Connor had calmed himself down by the time he heard another knock at the door. In record time, for him. 

“I don’t want to talk, Zoe.” 

He did want to talk. The one thing he needed in that moment was to talk. But that was a foreign concept, the idea that he could ever let anything out to someone that wasn’t a therapist. The idea of burdening someone with his problems.

“I made your tea, Connor.” Oh. So, not Zoe. 

Cynthia simply pushed the door open, seeing a teary eyed Connor hunched over his guitar, pushing a broken smile. 

“Thanks.” He mumbled, subconsciously curling tighter into himself as she sat beside him, carefully setting his guitar beside the bed. 

“What happened at school today?” She asked, handing him the mug of tea, which he gripped onto like he needed it to survive. 

“Nothing. Normal day.”

“Something interesting must have happened today, I'm sure.”

He wanted to tell her. He so desperately wanted to tell her. But… God, why not just fucking do it? There was no use keeping everything in any more.

“Remember my… friend? From Hanover. Miguel? The one-”

“The one you bought home when you thought nobody was here?”

“Oh.” Well, at least now he didn’t have to explain it. “I didn't know you knew about that.”

“I'm your mom, Connor. Of course I knew.” She smiled warmly, wrapping an arm over his shoulder, pulling him against her. 

“I'm sorry I never told you.” 

“You're telling me now, aren’t you? Finish what you were talking about.”

“He just started talking to me again. And I thought there was something there.” He sighed, taking soft sips of his tea. “I called him. Today. To ask about it. And he said that he didn't think it was a good time. Which is boy code for ‘I fucking hate you and I never want to see you again and I'll be fucking some other guy by the end of the week’.”

“What if he meant it?” 

She really wasn’t listening, was she? He was _ just _explaining what it meant. What it meant- in his head. Maybe she had a point. 

“Meant what?”

“That it isn’t a good time. Remember what that doctor said? You have to focus on getting yourself better. Not getting a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Or whatever it is that you want. “

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“So, can you stop worrying about what this boy thinks of you and worry about yourself?”

“Yeah. I have other options anyway.” 

Cynthia raised an eyebrow, and Connor responded with a distinctly teenage eye roll. “These two guys at school are obviously really into me, but they’re both cowards and won’t admit it. Its fun.”

“Fun?”

“One tries to act tough and make fun of me, and the other is completely in denial and a terrible liar. And really into Zoe, so it's weird.” 

“Well, no boys until you're better.”

“Mooom.” He said with a playful whine. “I don’t want either of them. They’re just fun.”

“As long as they stay that way.” She finally got up to leave, very aware that her prying was the last thing Connor wanted. “Remember. You are your top priority.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Sure, he knew, but it didn't mean he would listen. There was no harm in testing the water, right? A little flirting wasn’t going to hurt anyone. 

_ Hey. Its Connor :) Want to meet up and get some work done? :P _

No harm, right? It was going to end fine, right?

Right?

* * *

> _There's an art to life's distractions_  
To somehow escape the burning weight  
The art of scraping through  
Some like to imagine  
The dark caress of someone else, I guess any thrill will do

* * *


	3. Are we the waiting?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's life is, to put it simply, a mess. He doesn't have any direction, any clue where he's going, but he's sure as hell not alone for the ride.  
Now featuring an infuriatingly attractive new student, and a whole lot of confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late chapter (again), sorry!   
Currently no tab because its taking forever to format and I need to get this out, but hopefully it'll get done soon :)  
Also, Autumn is not my own oc, she belongs to @godly.sign on insta who is HUGELY appreciated for letting me steal her for this
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!   
Find me on tumblr @deh-essays, on instagram @lesbianconnormurphy, and on kofi @badwriterpositivity for previews! I love to talk about this fic so please don't hesitate to dm me about it, any and all comments are appreciated!

Okay. Well. 

“Just fun” didn’t exactly last long. 

It wasn’t like Connor and Jared  _ intentionally  _ made out. It just, kind of, happened. 

It came naturally, really. They were doing work, for a while. If a while is five minutes. 

Connor made a couple flirty passing comments- barely noticeable innuendos, thinly veiled compliments, simple gazes that lasted just a little bit too long. Nothing really that bad. 

At least, not until Connor got them sidetracked. 

All he wanted was to smoke a little. That was all they started doing. Connor hadn’t anticipated how Jared would react to weed, especially not in the way he did. Sure, he was normally confident- at least, he acted like it- but something different came into it when he was high. Something far different. Like, “I only hate you because you’re pretty and that pisses me off.” different. 

“What?” of course, Connor was too stoned to really get paranoid hearing that. Sober, he would have freaked out, accused him of lying to make him vulnerable, but stoned? Part of him was too spaced out to register it beyond its bare surface level. 

“You’re pretty. Like, really fucking pretty. And it pisses me off because you’re straight and I can't make out with you, but I really want to because you’re fucking pretty and I want to pull your hair.” 

“We talked about this, like, today. I'm bi.” He rolled his eyes, as if it was already so painfully obvious he should have known from the start.

“Oh. Yeah.” A silence settled for a few moments, Jared not spending a second of it looking away from Connor’s face, and most of it looking directly at his lips. He’d somehow lost all of his very little subtlety, and Connor couldn’t be more thankful. After being rejected by Miguel, a rebound was all he needed. “So does that mean I get to make out with you now?”

“Depends on how pretty you think I am.”

“I just told you. Really fucking pretty. You have dumb pretty hair and dumb pretty eyes and a dumb pretty laugh. And when you wear makeup and shit, you’re  _ insanely  _ pretty. It isn’t okay.”

“If you like me that much, then get over here and kiss me, you hot idiot.”

They were lucky Jareds kisses didn’t have the same effect as Miguel’s. At least, Connor was lucky. He definitely wasn’t ready to have sex yet, but it was clear that Jared was, considering what Connor could feel pressing against his thigh. Okay, it was tempting, but he wasn’t about to give in. 

The moment both of them were out of breath, Connor pulled back, giving him another quick half-smile. “So, what’s the plan for this stupid fucking project?”

“What?” Jared’s eyes were barely even focused. Connor had knocked all the intelligence out of him, and he wasn’t even sure if what had just happened was actually real, or if he had been thrown into a  _ very _ convincing daydream. 

“C’mon. If we actually get this shit done, I’ll kiss you again. Promise.”

"What the fuck just happened?"

"I made out with you because I'm stoned and horny, you made out with me because you think I'm pretty. Not that hard to understand. Stop acting like a virgin and get some shit done." 

* * *

Maybe he could have something good with Jared after all. 

Unfortunately, almost immediately as he thought about talking to him again at school, Miguel finally texted him back. 

Their chats were dry, and uneventful, and full of excuses, but Connor was far too eager to notice any of it. It kept him busy for about a week, until he found something else to keep himself distracted with. 

A new student going by Autumn, who was sent to shadow Evan for her first week there. 

It should probably be noted that Miguel hadn’t been the only person Connor was talking to. The other was Evan. Their friendship had started almost oddly, with Evan reaching out to Connor out of the blue. 

_ Hey :) its Evan. Jared gave me your number so please don’t think i'm some kind of crazy stalker. My therapist told me to talk to you because i said you seem nice :) _

God, could he have tried harder to be likeable and polite? 

** _I'm not nice_ **

_ You seem nice _

** _And you're only talking to me because of your therapist_ **

** _Am i just a pet project for you _ **

** _“Go talk to the fucked up kid and feel better about how shitty you are”_ **

Connor’s aggression seemed easier to deal with like that. Sure, he was probably equally as angry as he would be in person, but at least Evan didn’t have a direct threat in front of him. Plus, he was better with words when he could spend as long as he wanted perfecting his responses.

_ No??????????????????? _

_ I just want to be your friend _

** _Thats fucking stupid. _ **

** _And kinda cute. _ **

** _Fine hansen. You got yourself a friend :)_ **

Somehow, it escalated far faster over text than it ever would in person. Evan seemed to be a bit of a natural oversharer already, and any time he’d mention a panic attack or a breakdown, Connor couldn’t help but feel sympathetic. He more than understood what it was like, and while he was far more careful about what he said, Evan seemed pretty trusting of the fact that he knew how it felt. And, when Connor finally did open up about something, Evan surprisingly wasn’t too bad at helping. 

_ Are you okay??? You werent in today _

** _Yeah_ **

_ Just tell me whats up _

Shit. He was getting good at picking up Connors tells. That was the most obvious one- his life could never really be summed up by a “Yeah”, and even when it could, he’d at least been a little more descriptive. 

** _I'm surprised you didn't hear._ **

_ Hear what?? _

** _Got the shit beat out of me._ **

Evan really shouldn’t have felt so flustered at the picture Connor sent as evidence of just how fucked up the fight had left him. Face bruised, lip cut, the knuckles of the hand his head rested on bandaged up tightly. 

Fuck, it was hot. He knew it was wrong to be so into Connor getting hurt, and a part of him was terrified at the thought of what Connor would do to him if he was on his bad side, but his desperation to be protected overrode that. Plus, nothing seemed to be able to make his hair look any less pretty. And he could swear that it looked just a little more clean and fluffy than usual.

_ Oh shit that looks awful :( i'm sorry  _

_ Why did it happen? _

** _Some guy found out I told jared something. _ **

Ah. Well, that explained why Jared kept whining about Connor avoiding him. Evan knew not to pry, but he responded entirely out of instinct. 

_ What? _

** _Does it fucking matter?_ **

_ No it doesnt Sorry. _

** _[Typing…]_ **

And then it stopped.

** _[Typing…]_ **

Stopped. 

** _[Typing…]_ **

Stopped.

** _A while ago i had a shitty day and really needed to get high and i ‘did him a favor’ for a joint_ **

** _I told jared and one of his friends heard me_ **

_ Thats horrible i'm so sorry  _

** _Now all of them know about me _ **

** _Which means everyone at school is gonna know_ **

** _Which means i'm gonna have to deal with more shit than i already do _ **

For once, Evan managed to be the rational voice in the situation. He was far better at doing it for others than himself.

_ Why would they tell anyone else? _

** _To fuck my life over and make me fucking miserable_ **

_ But then they would be outing the other guy too.  _

_ And they wouldn't want to do that  _

** _[Typing…]_ **

** _[Typing…]_ **

** _[Typing…]_ **

** _Oh._ **

** _Yeah_ **

** _:)_ **

* * *

The one catch with their friendship was the fact that they never talked anywhere other than on text. At least, it was. Until Autumn, mostly out of curiosity, asked Evan who ‘that pretty goth dude with the girl hair’ was.

"Oh. That's Connor. We're… friends." He almost felt bad for saying it. Connor's reputation was far from clean, and he knew it wouldn't be long before she heard every little detail and rumor about him. But, for now, he could get them off to a decent start.

"Is he gay? He looks gay." Well, she certainly wasn't about to dodge anything. 

"No. Well, kinda? He's-"

"Oh! He's bi! Got it. He looks like a girl and it's pretty. And he plays guitar.”

Damn, she definitely was observant. Or, maybe Evan was just constantly unable to pick up on subtle things. It was a mix of both, really.

“He does?”

“You can’t tell?” She questioned, looking genuinely confused. “He has the right hands for it. And a pick holder keychain on his bag, which is actually kinda cute. And yesterday I saw him going into one of those practice rooms.”

“Oh. Well. I guess he does.”

“Can you introduce me to him?” Oh shit. Evan was barely confident enough to talk to Connor at school, let alone introduce him to someone. Now that was anxiety-inducing. But he wasn’t about to deny it, or he’d look even weirder. 

“You, you’re in the same English as me, right? I’m pretty sure the only empty seat left is next to Connor.”   
  


Turned out, he was right. English class came, and- shit. Partnered work. He’d entirely forgotten. Sure, he was supposed to be working alone anyway, but that didn’t exactly help in being able to easily introduce Autumn and Connor. At least, it didn’t, until Evan got a text from Connor in the middle of class. “ _ Come over here, I need to talk” _

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That couldn’t be good. It had to be about him, right? It was either him, or about the mysterious reason Jared was sat on the other side of the class, entirely alone. But it was almost definitely him. He’d done something wrong without realizing and now Connor was about to hate his guts and never want to speak to him again and beat him up even with his knuckles all bandaged up, because that was how much he hated him for whatever mistake he had made because he was too dumb to notice it.

It was actually the latter. 

“What's up?” Evan asked as he sat beside him, as hesitant as he would be if he’d been called up to the principal’s office. 

“Everything is just, really awkward. Between me and Jared.”

Okay. Phew. Sigh of relief.

“And you don’t know why?”

“No, I know why. It’s because we made out and I didn’t know how fucking seriously he took it. It was just supposed to be fun and he ruined it, and now it’s been a week and he won’t talk to me.”

“Oh.” Now that he didn’t expect. “Why?”

“We were stoned and he called me pretty. My standards are  _ low  _ when I’m high.”

“Ev? I don’t get this thing.” 

Somehow, neither of them had noticed Autumn walking over. 

The moment she did, Connor froze up entirely. He knew nothing about this girl apart from that she was new- but now, he knew that she was fucking gorgeous, in all the ways that made him flustered. There was something innocent about her, but something so oddly strong. She could probably punch him in the face and smile like that the whole way through. And even that was still hot to him.

“Hi. I’m Connor.” He mumbled, far shyer than he intended to come off. Evan had never seen that kind of side of him, never seen him as a blushing shy kid with a hopeless crush on a girl he'd never met. It was charming, honestly. But, he wasn’t fully sure if that was really Connor, or just another mask he put on when he was trying to make someone like him before they could find out what he was really like.

"Oh! Me and Ev were talking about you!”

Connor shot a glare at Evan. A pretty paranoid one, at that. He was used to things said about him being less than positive, and he completely expected her to know him purely for his reputation. 

“About what.”

“I wanted to know if you play guitar. And, you do. So I was right.” She smiled, not entirely picking up on the paranoia in his voice. Or, maybe she did. Maybe she was just good at ignoring it. 

“How did you know that I do?”

“You have the hands for it. And I’ve seen you go to the place Ev told me the practice rooms are.”

“You’re right about me playing guitar. I don’t really practice here. I just go out there to get high out back.”

“Oh.” She sat beside him, in Jared’s usual seat, giving him a curious look. “Can I get high with you?”   
“You smoke?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow. She really didn’t seem like the kind of person to smoke pot. Or cigarettes. Or drink. Or do anything that was ‘wrong’.

“Nope! Never.” Well, that answered that. “But I want to. I was… homeschooled. So I haven’t done a lot of normal teen stuff.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” He smiled weakly, the same vague flicker that he gave everyone else, that nobody ever seemed to think was fake despite how put-on it always seemed. “No worries. You don’t need to know anything about me, I don’t need to know anything about you.”

“But, I do know things about you. I know you play guitar. And you smoke weed. And you pick at your nail polish a lot. And you’re bi.”

Night and day. His all too familiar guard came back up, fists clenched by his side, drawing back from her entirely. “Who fucking told you that.” He hissed, glaring at Evan, feeling like the whole world was against him. “Did you? Would you really be that much of an asshole to out me to someone you barely fucking know? Are you-”   
  


“Christ, Connor, calm down.” Shit. How did he not notice Jared right behind him? It wasn’t a great day for his observance. “You already told me, it’s obvious. She’s not trying to ruin you, or whatever the hell you think is happening.” He rolled his eyes, perching on the table. “Actually, who is the new chick?”

“I’m Autumn!” She responded brightly, clearly not phased by how Connor was acting. Maybe the crush he had on her wasn’t  _ completely  _ ridiculous. 

“Well, Autumn, do you think that dear Connie over here-”   
“Don’t call me Connie.”

“Alright, well, do you think that dear  _ Connor  _ here is some kind of absolute freak for liking a little dick every now and again?” Very eloquently put, as always. But, Connor couldn’t find much to criticize in it, considering he wasn’t entirely wrong. It wasn’t as if he liked guys for their seeming non-existent emotional stability and support.

“No. Pretty people are pretty no matter what.”

Nobody seemed to notice exactly how awkward Evan seemed. Which he was incredibly thankful for, considering that he was absolutely desperate to dodge the whole sexuality conversation. Connor had got him far too confused about himself, and he was trying his best not to confront those feelings despite how damn obvious they were getting.

Luckily for him, the conversation moved on, Connor more occupied by Autumn and Jared more occupied by Connor. 

* * *

Turned out, the reason she’d known about his playing so quickly was because she wasn’t a stranger to guitarists. She wasn’t one herself, but she’d certainly met plenty before. Connor only found out about it when she asked to hear him play, and he finally brought his guitar in to show her.

“I was a drummer. Well, am. But I don’t get to play much anymore. I didn’t get to keep my kit when I… Moved.” She explained, making herself perfectly comfortable on the edge of the table beside him. He found something almost sweet about how much she hesitated to lie about her past. It felt like seeing a version of himself that wasn’t quite as hardened.

“You should play with me sometime. I’m pretty sure there's a kit in one of the other rooms. I just like using this one.”

“Because nobody comes down here?” 

“Yeah. Exactly. The piano is shit, it’s too small to have that many people, and people like to come in here to fuck around. I’m pretty sure barely anyone knows it’s a thing.”

They were proven wrong quickly. Evan pushed the door open sharply, stepping in and promptly shutting it behind himself.

“Hey. Sorry.” He mumbled, giving Connor an apologetic look, like he’d just barged in on something far worse than just a normal conversation. “Sorry. Just, Autumn said she was here. I didn’t know you were. I can, I’ll go, if you want-”

“Ev. We’re friends, it’s fine.”

“Oh.” Connor had never actually said that before. That they were friends. He’d managed to keep his hopeless crush mostly repressed, until then. He could feel just how pink his face was becoming, the familiar anxiety in his stomach, the sudden tightness of his breathing. He didn’t try to say anything else, awkwardly sitting on the stool in front of the piano and staring down as if there was something  _ incredibly _ interesting on the floor.

“Connie was just telling me that there's a drum kit somewhere. So I can start playing again!”

“Shame we don’t have a pianist for support.”

“I play piano.” Evan cut in, quietly, not fully looking up at them. “It’s just, My therapist told me to try it, and I did, and it was fun. I’m, I’m pretty good. I’m not, bragging or anything, I mean I’m not even that good and I kinda can't play at all and I’ve never been taught so I’m doing everything the wrong way, just, I can play.”

“You do?” He raised an eyebrow, knowing not to Well, maybe we’re onto something here. Play with me.”

  
  


The three of them actually managed to do pretty well together. So much so that skipping lunch to practice together was an almost daily thing, and Connor was managing to stop freaking out every time he did something wrong. 

Mostly. 

“I just can’t get this shit right!” God, okay. A meltdown in front of people wasn’t exactly a comfortable thing, but it had happened enough that he was almost used to it. And once it came on, he couldn’t really find a way to stop it.

“It’s just one thing, Connie. It’s fine.”

“It isn’t fine! It’s not fucking fine! I can’t even be good at one thing, one easy fucking thing, I’m just a fucking failure-”

He was cut off by arms wrapping tight around him, a desperate attempt at comfort, Autumn’s head coming to rest on his shoulder. She knew that words weren’t her strong suit, and Connor more than appreciated the comfort he felt being held so gently. There was something about it that gave him such a feeling of trust, of safety, and he couldn’t help relaxing against her. 

“Do you get mad at me when I get stuff wrong?” Evan asked, giving him a carefully questioning look. By that point, he was figuring out what helped Connor the most, and was far less scared of getting hurt if he said the wrong thing.   
“Well, no, but…” 

“Do you get mad at Autumn when she can’t do something?”

“No. But how do I know that you don’t secretly fucking hate me?”

“Why would I do this if I hated you?” Evan asked, hesitating for a moment. He knew Connor well enough to know that he wasn’t going to take a straight answer. He stepped closer, gently taking his hand, both of them feeling shivers from the contact, far more being said just from the way they looked at each other than words could express. Somehow, he didn't feel the crushing anxiety that he knew was building up. He wasn't stressing about whether his hands were sweaty or not, or if he was threading his fingers through Connors in the right way, or if he was initiating something Connor didn't want. The worries were there, sure, but didn't hit him like they normally did. They were a mild buzz instead of a tidal wave.

“No. You wouldn’t.” He replied after another pause, trying to focus on Evan more than his insecurities. It was easy, really. That hand clutching his was all that could occupy his thoughts. And, of course, Autumn gently holding him from the side, her head pressing carefully on his shoulder.

"But, how do I know? That you aren't just lying to me?"

“Well, I guess you just have to trust us.” 

“Yeah. I guess I do.”

* * *

“Well? Do you?”

“I told you, Zo, I don’t know. I don’t know if I trust anyone, really.”

His voice was far quieter now he was in public. Sure, it was Connor’s idea to get coffee together after class, but he hadn’t expected having to go so deep into things. 

“Do you trust me?” She asked, keeping her tone curious instead of irritated. After the amount of incidents they had, she was being as careful as she possibly could. It seemed to work.

“I told you, I don’t know. But. I want to.” 

“Do you want to trust them?”

“Of course I do. Its just, hard. For me. Trust issues, yknow?” Both hands were gripping tight on his mug despite him not taking a single sip, mostly a nervous response. 

“Connor, you have everything issues.” She teased, happy to see a smile on his face. He was slowly getting better and better at accepting little jabs every once in a while and not taking them to heart. Plus, seeing him smile at all was a huge bonus.

  
  


“What issues do I not have?”

“You’d definitely win at issues bingo.”

“Now that's an exaggeration.” He rolled his eyes, finally loosening his grip. “I only really have trust issues. And anger issues.”

“And daddy issues. Don’t forget the daddy issues.” 

“God, how could I?”

“I can’t.” She grumbled, weakly faking anger. “I’m begging you, please stop thinking that nobody’s home just because the driveway is empty.”

“That was one fucking time!” He defended, a definite flush coming to his cheeks. 

“And now I’m scarred for life. As my older brother, it’s your responsibility to  _ not  _ have sex while I’m in the house.”

“You’re just pissed I slept with a guy you thought was hot.”

“He’s on the football team, Con, everyone thinks he’s hot.”   
“And straight.” He teased, a smug look on his face. There was something he prided himself on about that- sure, he was high out of his mind, and only kind of remembered what happened, but he still felt somewhat proud of the fact that he had hooked up with someone so sought after, even if it was just for free weed. 

“Alright, Mr bisexual, no need to rub it in.”

“It’s not like it’s an advantage. Double the amount of people hitting on me is still Zero.”

“It’s six, actually.”

Connor shot her a sharp glare. He was the one that had told her about it in the first place, but still wasn’t a fan of bringing it up. “You say that like I’m a fucking whore.”

“You’re the one flirting with three different guys, Con.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know who to fucking choose. They’re all… I don’t know. It’s not your problem to worry about.”

“You’re my brother. Of course it’s my problem.”

“No it isn’t. Who I date is my problem.” He was quickly getting more and more closed off, predictably bringing those defensive walls right back up. 

“It kinda is, when I’m the one that's gonna have to find excuses to go out with mom and dad whenever you want them to come over. And when one of them is into me.”

He hesitated for a moment, looking down and getting quieter. “Two, actually.”

“What? But I thought they were both gay?”

“Well. Autumn is bi.”   
“Connor, you have to be fucking kidding me.” She sighed, burying her face in her hands and letting out an exasperated sigh. “I’ve never even met her, how do you know?”

“She’s already told me she thinks you’re pretty. Just, come to practice with us tomorrow.”

* * *

Well, he was most definitely proven right. Evan was flustered as hell around her, reverting back to the version of himself that Connor had first met, blushy and quiet and trying far too hard to be charming in the most awkward way. It pissed him off, a little. He was used to the version of Evan that wasn’t afraid to joke around with him and hold a decent conversation, not the one that wasn’t willing to say a word because he was too scared to fuck up in front of his crush. 

Autumn, meanwhile, was just a blatant flirt, whether she meant to be or not. 

“You’re definitely Connor's sister. Being pretty must be a family trait." 

Connors jealousy didn't show at first. He was just far more quiet than usual. 

"Aw, thanks. You're real cute, too."

"And you're talented." 

"You think you aren't?" Zoe raised an eyebrow, giving her a knowing smile. They were hitting it off far faster than expected.

"Okay, okay, stop flirting." Connor cut in sharply, obvious bitterness in his voice. He was the one that couldn’t choose who he wanted, but he still didn’t want one to be pulled away from him so quickly. Plus, he wasn’t fond of the idea that they liked her more because she was better than him. "we're supposed to be practicing." 

"Alright, killjoy. It's not like she's your girlfriend." 

A regular glare came into his eyes, trying to keep it subtle. 

"It's not like she's yours either." 

"That's why I'm not flirting." 

"Oh! Autumn cut in, seeming genuinely shocked. "I mean, I was flirting. Because you're pretty. I always flirt with pretty people. That's why I flirt with Connie!”

“Connie?” Evan said, the first word he had spoke for the past ten minutes. “I thought you hated being called Connie.”

“I do.” He tried his best to act tough, but it was painfully obvious that he was melting from the attention. He always had been easy to manipulate like that- show him some genuine care and affection, and his whole exterior could be easily shattered. He managed to catch himself, shaking his head quickly and squeezing his eyes shut. “Let’s get back to practice. Zo still needs to learn this.” 

Fuck, he was a wreck.

* * *

Clearly, the best way to deal with how confused he was, was to go and see Miguel. They had been drifting apart even more lately, but that didn’t stop Connor from being absolutely enamored by everything he did. 

There was a little voice, though. One that normally only spat malicious thoughts at him, trying to ruin his life with the ‘truth’. But somehow, for once, it was right. Because it was the only part of him that could recognize how bad he became around Miguel. The whole drive there, it dug at him, picking at everything he was too scared to think about. 

‘You’re letting him use you and you aren’t recognizing it. He's been completely ignoring you, and you've let him. You fucking let him, and it's your fault he isn't interested.'

"God, fuck off." He grumbled, having no problems talking to himself when he was alone. He found it therapeutic, in a way. To be aware that everything it said was trying to make him feel worse, and treat it like an annoying distant relative that had far too many issues with him. “He’s just busy. He has a job, he has family, he doesn’t have to be with me every fucking second.”

‘He used to talk to you all the time. And now he can’t give you a second of his life. You know damn well he's lying about being busy. You have other options, but you keep chasing him no matter how shitty he is. You’re just in denial. You're an idiot.'

"Maybe I am. So fucking what?” He responded after a sharp pause, pulling up in the driveway. “No turning back, right? He’s probably seen me already. I can’t stop now.”

‘Fine. You’re the only one fucking up here.’ 

“This might all be fine! I just have to try.”

To cut a predictable story short, the outcome was the same as it always had been. They got close, Connor let him into parts of himself he hadn’t ever given another person, then left when he tried to pry too much. 

Cue Connor driving home in tears, that voice in his head back to spitting all his deepest insecurities at him, and pulling into the driveway at a time he assumed nobody would still be up. 

Which is why he really wasn’t happy to come home to Larry stood in the doorway, very clearly waiting for him. 

  
  



End file.
